Sara: As the daughter of Senator and presidential hopeful Jentsen Holbrook, I spent a good deal of my life under public scrutiny. What I wore. Where I went. Who I dated. It was just the way of things. I’d become what was expected of me, until I ran from my obligations and woke up one morning in Cross de Raven’s and Eryk Hale’s world, two hot guitarists from the mega-famous metal band, Cinder. For the first time, freedom to be myself was within my reach. And along with that? Inevitable scandal.

Eryk: True beauty walked into my life, more beauty than I ever deserved. I partied hard. Rocked harder. I wasn’t good enough to touch Sara’s petal-soft skin, hold on tight, or love her, but regardless of my bad boy ways, no one was going to stop me from trying.

Cross: Sometimes, no matter how hard we fight for what we want, love won't save the day, and truth doesn't always set you free. Then again… Maybe, just maybe, when you find the one you’ve been searching for, love can find a way.

After a
second encore song, the band exited the stage for the last time. I’d been so
preoccupied watching Cinder perform for the previous couple of hours that I
hadn’t thought of my father, Pierce, or the trouble I’d caused myself by
leaving D.C.

I gave
Briar a quick cuddle of gratitude.

My body
buzzed. My ears had a strange sort of woom,
woom, hum-thing happening. An odd combination of energy and weariness
spread through my limbs as if I’d just run a marathon, though I still had a few
more miles left in me.

Briar’s
eyes were bright, face aglow. “I saw you shaking your thang during the last few
songs. Was that the best show on the planet or what?”

“It so
was,” I agreed.

“God.”
She did a fist pump. “I can’t believe we’re going to the after party.” Briar
grabbed her hair, lifted the long strands, and fanned the back of her
glistening neck. “I’m totally going to hit up Fade for his autograph.” She
dropped her hair and pointed to the girls highlighted by the low-cut shirt
she’d worn. “It’s going here, and then I’m getting it permanently inked.”

I’m sure
my eyebrows flew up into my hairline. “You’re seriously going to tattoo his
name over your right breast?”

“Oh yeah
I am.” She gave me the once over, reaching for my shirt. “Unbutton some of
these.”

“Hey!” I
protested, swatting at her busy fingers.

“Be
proud of those, babe, and show a little flesh.” Two of my button’s plinked on
the floor.

So much for re-buttoning.

“That’s
better,” she said, appearing pleased.

I
glanced down to see a peek of my pale skin. Thankfully I wasn’t too indecent.

Briar
had the whole badass rocker-chic thing happening with her dark, smudged
eye-makeup, plaid school-girl skirt, and combat boots. And the looks flung my
way pretty much confirmed I stuck out like a sore thumb as we were being herded
in the direction of the after party.

Holding
onto my hand, Briar took charge and tugged us through not one, but two security
checks. My Donna Karan floral print blouse, tan capris, sweat-laden face, and
blonde bedraggled hair separated me from the pack of other salivating women—and
men—begging to go where we were headed.

More
crazy lights, bumping music, a bevy of voluptuous, half-dressed girls
pole-dancing on a raised, slowly spinning platform greeted us as we walked
through the door. More girls, wearing skin-tight, Unchained Chaos Tour shirts,
and cheek-baring short-shorts served finger food and booze.

Briar
snagged a beer from one of the passing booty-gals. “Here,” she said, shoving
the drink at me.

Tentatively,
I put the cool glass bottle to my parched lips and took a sip. I winced as the
bitter brew coated my tongue. “Mm—no.”

“That’s
not how you drink.” Briar took the beer from me. “Watch.” She tipped her head
and chugged, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist when she finished.
“Now. You try.” Back came the half-empty beer bottle.

I’d
never get any peace if I didn’t at least attempt to placate her, so I went for it,
eyes clenched shut, trying not to gag as the cold liquid slid down the back of
my throat.

The
beanie and the mirrored shades he wore on stage were gone, freeing his black,
shoulder-length hair, and displaying the features of his perfect male-model
face, unleashing a devastating pair of chocolate colored eyes.

His gaze
swung to me. “Are you a ‘huge fan,’ too?”

Heat
spiraled up from the depths of my core and warmed my cheeks. “Uh. Um…” I took a
breath. “Well—”

“This is
her first concert,” Briar said while making moon eyes at him, saving me from
being a monosyllabic moron.

Cross
tilted his head and took me in, from the toes of my mini-wedges to the top of
my head. “You don’t say.”

I just
nodded and shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting like an idiot.

“Who ya
got cornered here?” Eryk asked, strolling up beside Cross.

Briar
squeed her delight and grabbed onto my arm, jostling the bottle I held in a
death grip. “I’m Briar Scott,” she said, “and this is Sara.”

The
strobe lights pinged off one of the metal rings in Eryk’s ear as he tore his
steel-gray gaze from me and over to Briar. “Nice to meet you, Briar Scott.”

Another
high pitched squeak fell from her pretty, plump lips. “You, too.”

“What do
you say to joining us over there?” Eryk nudged his head in the direction of a
plush grouping of leather chairs and a raspberry-colored, crushed-velvet couch
where several people had started to congregate.

Some
bleached-blonde girl lifted her shirt and flashed her large, bare breasts at
Fade when he walked in.

“Uh—” My
mind and voice failed me. This was so much more than a new world. I’d entered
an alternative universe.

“We’d be
happy to join you guys,” said Briar, hip-checking me.

Eryk’s
eyes flashed and one side of his sexy mouth quirked up into a crooked, sinful
grin as he looked at me. “I promise.” He gently ran the tip of his finger down
my cheek, causing goose bumps to riddle my skin. “We won’t bite.”

Cross
held out a big hand for me. “Speak for yourself, Hale.” He gave me a bone
melting grin.

On the
inside, I swooned. On the outside, I gave him my proper, practiced smile before
reaching out, feeling the warmth of his long, strong, fingers wrap around mine
and sucked in a breath. I swear an electric current zapped up the length of my
arm from where we touched and set off a chain reaction, causing the baby-fine
hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

Eryk
slung his arm around Briar’s shoulders, and she melted into his side as the
four of us made our way through the energetic, loud gathering.

Apparently, I’d be partying with the rock stars tonight.

***GIVEAWAY***London is giving away a $20 Amazon Gift Card to one lucky winner. Just enter the Rafflecopter below.a Rafflecopter giveaway

About London
London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.

A complete list of London’s books can be found on her website http://www.londonsaintjames.com. You can also e-mail London with any questions or comments at London@londonsaintjames.com. She loves to hear from her readers.

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

In my working life I wear many hats. Those worn by the writer and the proofreader you would assume to be created by the same milliner, but they are mutually exclusive. This is one of many reasons why we all need proofreaders.

No time for false modesty because I know I’m a very good proofreader—in fact, your actual grammar Nazi—and I have a particular talent for spotting typos. You would think, therefore, that when I do my own writing, I would eliminate errors as I go along, like a highly efficient chef who leaves the kitchen clean and tidy while producing a gourmet meal. But no. I make silly errors that are clearly brain glitches, like putting “at” instead of “as.” When you write or type, the hand is often quicker than the eye, but the brain leaves them both at the starting gate and chaos ensues.

When I proofread my writing and then ask my beta-reader for her opinion, I expect she will find errors I have missed. This happens when you are an author because you are too close to your work, too involved with it, to be able to step back and see the flaws. The brain often sees what it expects to see. So when it expects to see “its” but by mistake you have written “it’s”, the brain will continue to see “its” until hell freezes over. This inability to be objective is another reason why you need a proofreader.

Many words and phrases in everyday speech are used incorrectly and a good proofreader will know this. “Bored of”, for example, is a recent colloquialism and not (yet) acceptable in formal English. You can be bored by or with something but never bored of it. Another common mistake is to write “should of” instead of “should have”, which is an example of people writing words as they hear them. So, correcting erroneous usage is another reason why you need a proofreader.

Some people you just can’t help, however. A local business continues to advertise its computers and “assessories” two years after I tactfully pointed out the (common) misspelling. Grammar Nazis are frequently resisted, but resistance is futile if you want your business to look professional.

We all make mistakes, hit the wrong key without realizing it, and have misconceptions about grammar and spelling. (I’ll admit here to my eternal shame that before I became a proofreader, I used “shalln’t” instead of “shan’t”. Unbelievable.)

Using a proofreader doesn’t mean you are inadequate, it means you care about what you’ve written. It means you want your book, CV, assignment, trade ad, blog, etc. to be as flawless as possible, particularly if something important, like a job or qualification, depends on the finished product.

Don’t rely on the spellchecker either. If you’ve typed “there” when you meant “their” or “sort” instead of “sought”, you need a human proofreader to catch those bad boys because a spellchecker will give you ten out of ten for spelling every time.

Experienced proofreaders tend to be knowledgeable on a wide variety of subjects. My work covers topics as diverse as photography, education, nursing and psychology. They are good at research and have a sixth sense for knowing if a word is right, wrong, or should be queried. Sometimes you need a proofreader to save you from embarrassment, too. I’m sure the Polish friend who made this particular mistake won’t mind me mentioning it, but putting “bottom” instead of “button” mushrooms did give me an interesting image to giggle at. Meanwhile, my local village shop should have used a proofreader, but instead chose to display a printed sign asking customers to “bare with us” during renovations.

I’m hoping this is an error-free blog but, if not, I blame it on the fact that I wore my writer’s hat during its composition. Meanwhile my proofreading business has undergone a reboot on Facebook. Please drop by and say hello. All Likes gratefully received!

High praise for Carol's latest book that is a beautiful anthology of poems and short stories.

No one says it better than Amazon reviewer, faeriemoonmama, who describes the book as “atmospheric”:

“The poetry is steeped in a love of nature, magic and mythology. The short stories hold interesting twists. No spoilers! The Boomerang Effect (dabbling with a love spell, Martin Nevis finds himself having second thoughts) A Force to Be Reckoned With (an outcast with thoughts of being “destined for something great” wants to join the police force) and Transformation (once bullied, Patricia attends a school reunion and emerges victorious) were my favorites.

Carol Browne regards Crewe, Cheshire, as her home town and graduated from Nottingham University in 1976 with an honors degree in English Language and Literature. Carol writes speculative fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. She is also a ghost blog writer, proofreader, copy editor, and copywriter. Along with a passion for gardening, Carol is an avid animal lover.

Carol lives in the Cambridgeshire countryside with her dog, Harry, and cockatiel, Sparky.Pagan and vegan, Carol believes it is time for a paradigm shift in our attitude to Mother Nature and hopes the days of speciesism are numbered.

Monday, May 23, 2016

Not only is Emma Lane an accomplished Regency author, she is also a marvelous cook. Settle back and enjoy Emma's two treats in one, her delicious Chocolate Raspberry Parfait and a peek at her latest book Tutored by a Duke which is now available for pre-sale. March 18 is the official debut. And I can't wait to get my copy!

Okay, Emma, the kitchen is all your. Work your magic!

Hi Everyone! This dessert is easy, but elegant. Chocolate pudding made the day before is layered with marinated raspberries and whipped cream. This recipe serves one, so repeat the process for each guest.

Marinate eleven raspberries in a small cup with three tablespoons cream sherry. Let stand an hour at least.

Carefully layer in a parfait goblet in the following order:
A healthy dollop of chocolate pudding
Place 5 marinated raspberries on top of pudding
Spoon on whipped cream
Layer second chocolate pudding (gently, do not stir)
Add 5 more marinated raspberries
Cover raspberries with whipped cream
On last layer of whipped cream, dribble sparingly, the left over sherry marinade

Place one raspberry on top and serve or chill for later. If the layers tend to run a bit, don't worry. Just looks more decorative and creative.

Now while your dessert is chilling, I want you to search deep into your memories. Can you recall an incident where your mother told you distinctly NOT to do that thing or you’d be sorry? Of course, you did it anyway, and she was exactly right. Mothers were always on our side, but it took a bit more age and wisdom to figure it out.

One stands out for me. My mom told me emphatically NOT to buy that expensive, pale pink bathing suit. I thought it sophisticated and made just for me. Surely I knew best.

I spent the rest of the summer wearing my old one. That beautiful pink suit, when wet, was a see-through which the boys loved a bit too much. Mom never said a word, but I remembered her advice every time I squeezed into my old suit. To this day, there’s a fellow who gets a gleam in his eye at the class reunions and reminds me of ‘the pink suit’ episode. Glad I figured prominently in his teen fantasies. Not.

Tutored by a Duke is a Regency Romance with a sweet rating. The story is a hilarious romp as the younger set struggles to find their places in society.

Elisabeth is a lively young lady ripe for adventure. She’s lived the sheltered life of the privileged during the Regency era of the 1800’s and is on the cusp of entering society when she joins her older sister at a house party. On the enormous estate in the spreading mansion of a duke, she mistakes her host for the fat squire down the road. Thus begins an adventure which is against all her training. She knows her mother would not approve. Was that half the intrigue of meeting a stranger in private?

The handsome but incognito Richard Hawlester, Duke of Roderick, weary of toad-eating house guests, engages in a serious flirtation with young Elisabeth Barrows, who is primed for an exciting adventure. Mistaking the fat squire for the duke, she holds her secret relationship with a man known only as Richard, Nobel Rescuer, close to a tender heart while discovering love for the first time.

Elisabeth’s trust seems irrevocably lost when the duke’s actual identity is revealed. Realizing his mistake, Roderick begins an earnest, dangerous, and often hilarious campaign to convince her of his love. Elisabeth ponders whether true love can overcome the loss of trust between two people, even as danger presents in the guise of a vile, undesirable suitor, while a wicked assassin makes an attempt on the life of the duke. Trust broken can never be regained, or can it?

What does one wear to a secret assignation?” she wondered, smoothing her gown. When her maid entered the room, Elisabeth dismissed her with the same excuse of a headache. She actually made ready to put her head on her pillow until the maid left. She laughed quietly to herself and felt somewhat guilty. It was almost impossible to stay still with her heart thumping hard in her chest. After waiting for what seemed to be hours but was in reality mere minutes, she sat up and smoothed her hair, despairing of the wisps of curls that always escaped her efforts to tame them.

The guests were gathered in the front parlor, but she peeked carefully out the door just in case. She would make her way by the back stairs, which she hoped would lead her to the garden. Quickly she descended and stepped, as she suspected, directly into the beginnings of the garden. Statues of various gods loomed whitely in the twilight. The tinkle of running water alerted her of the nearness of a small frog pond. She knew her way from there and walked confidently forward. She almost screamed when an arm reached out and encircled her waist.

“Shhh…little one. It is only I, Richard, your Noble Rescuer.” He laughed softly and rubbed his face gently in her hair as he held her close. She twisted around to look up into his eyes but could not read his thoughts in the dim light. He released her and caught her hand, pulling her gently with him around the hedge and back to that private floral bower, borrowed once more from their host.

At his urging, she settled on a white garden bench which nestled against a flowering vine. Heady night fragrances enveloped her as she looked up into the handsome face of her friend. He gazed back at her but then paced a step or two back.

“I have things to say, sweetness. Please do not be upset when I use words I know are improper. Let us be two different people for tonight. What say you?” He stepped closer, but still did not join her on the bench.

Elisabeth waited for what she knew not. She was content to be this close to one for whom she had such feelings. She nodded. Why did she trust him so implicitly? She only knew she did. Perhaps it was because she enjoyed an enchanted night in a magic room with a handsome man who called her pet names. This was not real life, but she could not give up the thought that magic existed, especially for those who were in love. Surrounding her was a fairy garden which glowed with moonlight under the watchful eyes of stone guardians. Perhaps they came to life when the sunlight faded?

She inhaled sharply and clasped her hands together in her lap when he settled himself on the bench, their shoulders touching. His unique scent wrapped around her, causing her head to spin with excitement. As he turned toward her, he reached out with his arm, first touching her shoulder with his hand, and then folding around it. She did not stop herself from leaning toward him, although briefly she did try. The prickling of her conscience was like a buzzing, annoying gnat she could easily dismiss. Elisabeth was mesmerized by an intoxicating spell she never wanted to end. Richard leaned closer pulling her gently forward.

Emma Lane is a gifted author who writes under several pen-names. She lives with her patient husband on several acres outside a typical American village in Western New York. Her day job is working with flowers at her son’s plant nursery. Look for information about writing and plants on her new website. Leave a comment or a gardening question and put a smile on Emma's face.

Friday, May 20, 2016

COMING HOME is a Regency historical originally published in hardcover by Robert Hale Ltd. This wonderful book is now released as an e-book.

In the aftermath of a vicious rape, Juliana Colebrook shuns all men apart from the injured soldiers she nurses. Orphaned and alone, she desperately wants to leave Portugal for the protection of her relatives in England. However, there is still one man who invokes her admiration: Brigade-Major Colwyn Hetherington, with his self-deprecating sense of humour and innate sense of duty.

So when Colwyn is offered a dream job managing a large estate in Wiltshire, Juliana asks him to escort her back to England. But Colwyn has troubles of his own and when he is forced to reveal the nature of his woes to a stunned Juliana, everything changes. Mired in danger, who can Juliana trust? And what of Colwyn’s warning that families bring only trouble?

When Brigade-Major Colly Hetherington meets Miss Juliana Colebrook, he gives her a black eye. After the Battle of the Douro on the Iberian Peninsula he is severely wounded and only semi-conscious, but he is still coherent enough to know that he is behaving just as his father had predicted when he threw Colly out of the family home five years previously. Colly cannot be trusted around women.

Miss Colebrook, however, sees in Colly a wealth of kindness and a willingness to assume responsibility. She observes that he cares about the soldiers serving under him. If only…

Vonnie Hughes is a multi-published author in both Regency books and contemporary suspense. She loves the intricacies of the social rules of the Regency period and the far-ranging consequences of the Napoleonic Code. And with suspense she has free rein to explore forensic matters and the strong convolutions of the human mind. Like many writers, some days she hates the whole process, but somehow she just cannot let it go.

Vonnie was born in New Zealand, but she and her husband now live happily in Australia. If you visit Hamilton Gardens in New Zealand be sure to stroll through the Japanese Garden. These is a bronze plaque engraved with a haiku describing the peacefulness of that environment. The poem was written by Vonnie.

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Claiming Trinity – A Wiccan Haus Story

What’s Critics are saying:

“Gripping from cover to cover- the suspenseful
plot kept me on the edge of my seat and you’ll find a novel that just won’t let
you go...I was on the edge of my seat throughout…exquisitely vibrant bedroom
scenes that set the pages aflame and you won’t be able to put this one down.” Amazon
Reader

“Claiming Trinity begins with a bang...Right from
the beginning we are off on a wild ride of mystery and intrigue…This was a
totally unexpected and greatly appreciated book.” Amazon Reader

Blurb:

Tears
of blood…

Trinity is the last of her bloodline and cursed
with a bizarre ability for a Banshee. Living a mundane façade, she became a
psychologist who helps her clients work through their own grief—or at least she
did until her life took a sinister twist. Soon after the murder of her uncle, her
traumatic past comes back to haunt her. She’s faced with a few other challenges
she can’t control, along with her empathic talents. An unexpected offer of help
comes from the Rowan siblings when she receives a ticket to the Wiccan Haus for
a much needed retreat, along with some sizzling adventure she doesn’t bank on.
The evil that stalks her has bigger plans than anyone on the island realizes.

Two heroes with a dark past…

Arawn, an Immortal, rose up against his namesake
and abdicated his thrown to the Underworld. Conflicted between his lineage of
war and vengeance and his desire to protect those in need, he serves on the
Para Elite Forces. Kane, a tortured soul with a profound fear of showing anyone
his Gargoyle form, is forever indebted to his best friend. They attend the
Wiccan Haus for additional security training, but an unexpected run in with a
voluptuous white-haired beauty brings about a change of assignment—and sleeping
quarters. How will they maintain the
safety and wellbeing of this mystifying woman from looming threats, while
battling their deep-seated desire for her?

Welcome back to the Wiccan Haus. Where the
staff have some unusual quirks and the herbal tea is sometimes more than you
bargain for. The proprietors always do their best to make the resort a place of
healing and peace. It’s also a place some never want to leave!

Excerpt:

With a
deep breath and her Wiccan Haus charm in hand, Trinity folded her completed
checklist for items to pack and shoved it into her pocket. She clutched the
handle of her suitcase and mustered the courage to step into the portal.

In a
flash, lights swirled around her, the sensation of gravity dissipated, her body
lightened, and her limbs lingered in the air. She floated up, twisted, and spun
on the spot. A faint, but deep voice echoed in the distance, “Incoming.”

In the
blink of an eye, she bounced through the end of the portal, crashing into three
large, burly men and toppling over a dark-haired stranger.

“Whoa!”
He stopped their rolling together and landed on his back. Heated hands gripped
her sides as she came to rest on top of his rock solid-chest, face to face. He
chuckled. “You okay, princess?”

The
sweetness of his warm breath brushed her lips and tingles of electricity ran
over her sides where his hands held her steady. A delectable aroma of amber and
patchouli wafted past her nose. Trinity leaned closer to his neck and inhaled
then jerked. Lost in the depths of his dark eyes and chiseled features. His
stare penetrated her and his touch stirred something deep inside. “I’m…oh,
my….” She bit her lip.

“Are you
hurt?” He frowned.

“No.” She
rested her palms on his hard chest. But I
don’t think I would notice if I was. My word, you’re handsome. A warmth
curled around her spine, followed by giddy tickles in her tummy. Her body
responded to the contact and lulled her other senses. In the next instant, she
snapped out of her lustful daze with dread. “I’m so sorry,” she sucked in a
sharp inhale and eased herself to sit up.

His hands
settled on her hips. “I’m not.”

Trinity
slammed her eyes shut, her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the sudden
realization she now straddled the stranger she had just tackled to the ground.
“By the gods, please tell me this did not just happen.” She slung her leg over
to kneel on the floor and scrambled to get up. Another set of heated hands
gripped her under the arms and lifted her to her feet.

“You
landed pretty hard, are you sure you didn’t get hurt?” A second hunk
straightened her glasses and brushed her shoulder off.

“I had a
cushion to break my fall,” she whispered. Trinity smoothed back her hair to
find the tight bun she had slicked her mane into had loosened and stray strands
of hair littered her vision. She brushed away the rogue locks, and her breath
hitched as her focus landed on another delectable vision.

~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

Born and raised in
Toronto, Kali now resides in the exquisite eastern Ontario countryside where
she enjoys the serenity of nature. When she isn't busy being the married mother
of two, certified trainer or counsellor extraordinaire, she shadows worlds of
paranormal passion & intrigue.

Kali strives to create emotional, compelling
stories and characters you can't help but love, hate and cheer for. Captivated
by her love of dragons, gargoyles and everything paranormal, she pens these
delightful creatures into epic tales of romance and adventure and often infuses
her passions of martial arts, music and ironic twists even she didn't
foresee.

A good cup of tea with the crackling fire
gets her creative juices flowing in the wee hours of the night, when the house
is quiet and she can type away to her heart's desire. Learn more at:
www.kaliwillows.com

Monday, May 16, 2016

I am excited to announce my five Naughty Ladies of Nice books are now available in a box set from Toque & Dagger Publishing.

INTRODUCING

Treat yourself to a mini vacation on the French Riviera with five fun-packed books where intrigue, romance, and Haute cuisine collide to create erotic adventure.

FRENCH TART Book 1Bon Appétit...Satisfy all your cravings at cooking school.
Determined to prove herself and shed her party girl image, Donatienne Dubois pins her hope on the exclusive cooking school in Nice, France. One by one her expectations are shattered by a foul-mouthed parrot, a bogus Michelin chef, and a headmistress with a heart of tungsten steel. Donni’s lifesaver is a bad boy too hot not to handle.

Mark Anderson is incognito and hating every moment. To pose as a student while keeping tabs on a rich wild child is his version of hell, until he partners with the dish of Crème Brulée good enough to eat.

Class takes on a whole new meaning as Doni and Mark heat up the kitchen when they discover honey has better uses than sweetening tea.

FRENCH DELIGHTS Book 2Fantasy blooms in a garden of wicked delight.
Science is Paul’s life. Close to a major breakthrough, all he wants is to be left alone with his trees and not be forced to entertain a corporate suit. That is until the suit arrives in a sexy sundress. Now all Paul can think about is experimenting on her, not his orchard.

Lisette is less than thrilled about spending a month at a moldering chateau on the French Riviera with only some dried up old scientist for company. However the hot man in dirty jeans tending his scraggly trees proves more of a garden fantasy than the nerd in a lab coat.

Sex and science create a volatile formula resulting in total delight.

FRENCH TWIST Book 3Spies and lies bring a deadly twist to the City of Lights.
Interpol agent Claudette D’Laquois is trapped in the hellhole of life and unable to trust anyone. Desperate to regain control, she flees to the safety of her uncle’s rundown chateau on the French Riviera. But Claudette soon learns the countryside has its own dangers when she finds herself alone with a sexy foreigner.

Uptight accountant Donald Hobbs ditches numbers for dirt to oversee his friend’s orchard for three weeks. His well deserved vacation is perfect until a seductive mademoiselle drags him into a dangerous world of intrigue and erotic fantasy.

Illegal drugs and Russian mobsters take a back seat to a lethal night of sinful pleasure for Claudette and Don.

FRENCH KISS Book 4Who needs safe and boring when you can play with a pirate on the French Riviera?

Burned-out author Rachel Conklin sparks her creativity on the French Riviera as a fishing boat cook. Things are smooth sailing until she’s thrown overboard into a storm-tossed sea. Rachel awakens to find herself staring into the eyes of a sexy pirate-looking hunk who changes the course of her life forever.

Dr. Henri Bernier is an analytical man with a quiet life and a job he loves. The last thing he expects to find when he anchors his treasured fishing boat in the sheltered harbor of a small island is an accidental mermaid washed ashore. He soon learns his perfect life leaves much to be desired.

Will desire save them or drown them in a perfect storm from their pasts?FRENCH TICKLER Book 5Lace and handcuffs...tools of the trade.
New Yorker Samantha Bradley has a fun, sexy career designing ladies lingerie. Now that her business is on the rise, she treats herself to a well deserved break on the French Riviera where the women are glamorous and the men are gorgeous. After a few days Sam is eager to sample more than just the local cuisine.

Cisco Bernier is France's key criminal prosecutor, but his courtroom charm falls flat outside the hallowed halls of justice. From family relationships to romantic trysts, his success rate is abysmal until a chance encounter with a sensuous young American businesswoman spins his staid world out of control.

Sam and Cisco sizzle together, but any future is threatened when their pasts collide. Her mob-connected father and his deceitful mother resurface and drag them into a corrupt world of lies and danger.

Award-Winning author Sloane Taylor is a sensual woman who believes humor and sex are healthy aspects of our everyday lives and carries that philosophy into her books. She writes sexually explicit romances that takes you right into the bedroom. Being a true romantic, all her stories have a happy ever after.

Her books are set in Europe where the men are all male and the North American women they encounter are both feminine and strong. They also bring more than lust to their men’s lives.

Taylor was born and raised on the Southside of Chicago. Studly, her mate for life, and Taylor now live in a small home in Indiana and enjoy the change from city life. She is an avid cook and posts new recipes on her blog every Wednesday. The recipes are user friendly, meaning easy.

Taylor is currently published by Toque & Dagger Publishing. Excerpts from her books can be found on her website, blog, and all popular vendors.

Thursday, May 12, 2016

Sixteen-year-old Sophie Goodchild, the half-witch main character from my YA fantasy romance, Disenchanted is here to answer the following This or That questions.Chocolates or Flowers?
My Aunt Janie, an herbalist witch who owns a shop called Scents and Scentsabilities, has infused a deep appreciation for plant magic into my head and heart, but she also makes a mean enchanted chocolate confection to help me keep secrets and it melts on my tongue in the most delicious way. I’m torn on this question, but if I have to choose, I choose flowers because they really communicate so much more sentiment than chocolate, and they come in handy when you want to concoct magical products like Tulips to Kiss Stick and Forever First Love Lip Balm. Going out or staying in?
Staying in. Hands down. When you are dating a guy as hot as mine, you want to spend as much alone time together as possible. His name is Alexavier. He’s American, but went to school in London, so he has a dreamy British accent. He’s tall, dark-haired, and a bad boy at heart. Did I mention he’s forbidden? Oh yeah. *Swoon*

Fancy restaurant or pizza/burger joint?
I’m going with fancy restaurant on this one. Witches own most of the pizza/burger/sandwich shops in Wethersfield, and sometimes, they add enchanted ingredients like Parisian basil to their Witch Wraps to keep customers coming back. I’ll take mine without Parisian basil, thank you very much!Action flick or romantic comedy?
Alexavier really prefers action flicks because he is all about action. He never shies away from a fight. He even goes out in thunderstorms looking for trouble. That’s how we met. Me, I prefer watching zombie flicks with my pal, Callum. My friend, Macey thinks there is a love triangle going on with Alexavier, Callum, and me, but as sweet as Callum is, my heart belongs to Alexavier.

Nightclub or ballroom?
Ballroom. And only because of the weird dreams I’ve been having lately where I find myself wearing seventeenth century gowns and dancing to harpsichord music with a well-dressed gentleman who looks a lot like Alexavier. I think my witch ancestor is trying to tell me something…

Coffee or cocktails?
Coffee. I’m too young to drink cocktails and with the sleepless nights I’ve been having thanks to a witchy ghost from the past, caffeine is exactly what I need to wake up and keep me out of trouble. Good thing I have my mom’s diamond bloodcharm to enhance my magic, just in case trouble finds me and I’m not caffeinated.

Candy or Fresh Fruit?
Fresh fruit if they happen to be chocolate covered strawberries. Here's my favorite recipe from Food.com:

Wash strawberries and pat dry. Place on paper towels until they reach room temperature.

Melt chocolate chips, corn syrup, and butter in a double boiler, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and dip each strawberry into chocolate, coating ⅔ of strawberry. Allow excess chocolate to drip off into pan.

Place stem side down on waxed paper covered baking pan or cookie sheet. Refrigerate until set, about 15-20 minutes.

Yields approximately 28 strawberries.

This excerpt from Disenchanted gives you more insight to Sophie and her inner feelings. I hope you enjoy it.

He grinned his seductive grin, letting me glimpse his dangerous streak. Most likely a family trait and I had to make sure I didn’t forget it was there. He did seem different from them, not as affected from the poison running through their veins.

“I’m curious about you.”

My heart pleaded with my head to ignore the doubts and questions, to be in the moment and believe it was possible. “I love my garden, but this is what I like the most about Wethersfield. Right here. Where the star-crossed lovers are buried. Their story...well, it’s an interesting one.”

His lips pursed. He drew back, dejected. “Their story? Their story is a tragedy. One of many in the Mather family history.”

“The end is tragic, but it’s still a love story and this tree...” I raised my hand, admiring its lushness. “It’s a symbol of their forbidden love. Centuries with no berries and now look at it.” The mulberry swayed with the breeze as if it were dancing. The branches flaunted multitudes of pale, red berry clusters that had begun to ripen for the first time. I liked to think the tree was finally done mourning, but I had no idea why it picked this year of all its three hundred plus years.

“You sound like you believe in happy endings.”

“I want to. Don’t you?” He was kind of young to be tainted, I thought. My mind drifted to the possibility he had been jilted by a beautiful duchess during his time in London.

“Like I said, I come from a long line of tragedy in my family.”

I bit my lip for a second. He was right about that. For as long as we knew his family, they had been dropping dead, and usually in the prime of their lives, except for the really mean ones like the reverend, and his father and Zeke. “You know you have to fight for your own happy ending. You have to will it to happen.”

His eyes held mine, leaving me breathless again. I struggled to think straight.
“I’d bet you’re good at willing things to happen.”

A tendril of sable hair tickled my cheek. I brushed it away. “I’m good at making mistakes. Lots of mistakes.”

His eyebrows furrowed with disbelief. “You make it rain flower petals, yet you wallow in self-pity?”

He was aware I created the storm of blossoms. Crud. Of course, he was. There was no good explanation for it. My stomach sank. “I...uh...uh.”

He grinned, not fazed at all by what I could do. “How would you feel about having me as a friend, Sophie?”

My heart fluttered when he said my name, but I glanced at him curiously, not understanding what he was offering. “I choose my friends carefully.” I thought back to my dream last night. I wasn’t afraid of him, but how could I trust him?

He grimaced from my pause. His threw his hands out in front of him. “Look, I know you hate my family. And we haven’t exactly gotten along swimmingly, but I was thinking, it might be easier for both of us if we could find some middle ground.”

Incredulity colored my tone. “You want to be friends?”

“Why not?” he replied.

I shook my head. “Surprisingly weird.”

“Me?”

“Your suggestion.”

“It’s not weird at all.” He extended his hand to me as if he were serious. “Shake on it.”

My heart yearned for his touch, but it wrestled against the logic from my head. “I can’t.” I glanced around, knowing that since the Wethersfield Witch Trials, minus the rare exceptions, witches were forbidden to enter into any kind of a relationship with ordinaries, especially the Mathers. “This is crazy. Our families are enemies and...and I hate you.” My lips tingled from the devil’s bit, confirming what I already felt. It was a lie. I didn’t hate him at all. In fact, I feared it was the opposite. “Tell me what you really want from me.” I subtly pointed my finger in his direction.

“Verum,” I whispered in a hushed voice, attempting to cast a truth spell on him. The magic trickled out. I watched for a change in his focus, but as I watched him, a heart shape carved into the bark of the mulberry’s tree trunk behind him. My eyes popped. I closed my mouth, still staring at the engraving. “Wha?” I uttered in disbelief. Mishaps were guaranteed when I was near him.

“What do I want from you?” he repeated back to me, unaware of my fail.

I averted my eyes, feeling ridiculous.

“I want you to be you. You’ve got everyone thinking you’re thoroughly ordinary when you’re the farthest thing from it.”

I peered up at his beautiful face from beneath my lashes. Did he see through me? Did he really know what I was? “What would your father think about you wanting to be my friend?”

“It’s no one’s business but ours.”

“Ours? Like you and me together?” My brow crinkled. “A secret friendship?” I tried to ignore my quickening pulse. Everything in me wanted to believe him. My head railed against the idea. I would be breaking rules and there would be consequences.

He stepped closer. “I think we’re both good at keeping secrets. Why not one more?”

I swallowed hard. “You seem to have everything, including a terror for a brother who’s got your back. Why do you need a friend?”

“Everyone needs a friend.”

He held his hand out, wanting me to shake it while his eyes held me tight. In that moment, dizziness crept in and an overwhelming feeling of falling from a cliff followed. The intensity of it scared me. I put my hand up in a stop motion and pressed my other hand to my stomach, hoping the plummeting sensation would pass. I backed away. My head and heart tore away at each other. “I can’t do this.”

His face bore a forlorn expression. “You’re right. I’m playing with fire, a bad habit of mine. This was stupid of me. I’m sorry.”

Curiosity creased in my brow. “What do you mean ‘playing with fire’?”

His eyes, holding tight to his secret, burned through me. “I mean you. I’m pretending I can control something that’s out of my control. I can’t be around you without getting burned, yet I’m completely drawn to you.” He parted his soft lips. “Like a moth to the flame.”

Leigh Goff loves writing young adult fiction with elements of magic and romance because it's also what she liked to read. Born and raised on the East Coast, she now lives in Maryland where she enjoys the area's great history and culture.

Leigh is a graduate of the University of Maryland, University College and a member of the Maryland Writers' Association and Romance Writers of America. She is also an approved artist with the Maryland State Arts Council. Her debut novel, Disenchanted, was inspired by the Wethersfield witches of Connecticut and was released by Mirror World Publishing. Leigh is currently working on her next novel, The Witch's Ring which is set in Annapolis.

I write irresistible romance, from sweet to erotic and everything in between. I battle a serious NASCAR addiction and was once a landlord of two uninvited squirrels. I lose my keys several times a day, but I never lose my laptop.

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